Battle in the Foothills
by Terdris
Summary: As a battle rages in the Hillsbrad Foothills, warriors must learn how to fight and remain content with their lives.


"Battle in the Foothills"

Chapter One

_War and Morals_

Start Author's Notes

Hey. I'm Terdris, and I'll keep this short for you. This is my first story in the Warcraft Universe. It is concentrated on the World of Warcraft Territory called "The Hillsbrad Foothills." There's not much to say, so enjoy the show.

End Author's Notes

John and Amy had lived in Southshore all of their young lives. They were each only eight years old, and neither of them had gone any further then the small circle of land surrounding their town. There was a war on, anyway. Of course, in their lifetime there had always been one war or another happening - an invasion of demons, a brutish orc attack, or this long, bitter stalemate that had consumed both the Horde and the Alliance for over a year. But for two children cut off from the world around them, these were just bedtime stories and campfire tales.

John was a few months older then his friend, and he was quick to let her know it, should the need arise. He was also the son of the town magistrate, which was another badge he wore with pride. This mix of superiority masked his own fears, and while neither said it, both kids knew that when they needed it, Amy was the one who had the brains to get the job done.

The daughter of the town Armor smith, Amy was the richest girl in the city. Her father owned the forge and anvils that traveling blacksmiths used, and he was the only man in Southshore capable of repairing damaged armor and weapons. The man was incredibly modest in his wealth and his abilities, however, and this trait and rubbed off on his young child.

Despite these contradictions the two kids were best of friends, and they would almost have to be seeing as how they were the only children in all of Southshore. And no matter their parent's warnings about vicious mountain lions, bloodthirsty Murlocs, and Undead whose bodies were hardly alive, the children left their small costal city almost daily. Today was no exception – they were on an adventure.

They had traveled pretty far and wide in their short time. In one famous event that they would both probably remember their entire lives, they had traveled past Syndicate thieves and climbed into the Alterac Mountains. There they watched a band of Dwarves fight long battles with the Ogres who lived there. In another memorable event, they had watched a small Gnome call down a huge fiery rock demon and invade a Yeti cave with it. They had later stolen a book from the City Hall and found out the demon was called an Infernal.

Today was a different sort of adventure. John was going to teach Amy how to swim, and the only place to do that was Tarren Mill Lake.

Tarren Mill was Southshore's antithesis. All the life in Southshore seemed to be reflected in some sort of horrible converse here. Instead of guards clad in bright plate mail bearing the proud image of Stormwind, Undead Deathguards moved around wielding inhuman axes and wearing spiked armor. The lake outside of the city was really no more then a small pond. It was the only body of water in Hillsbrad that wasn't infested with Murlocs or oversized turtles, though, and presumably the perfect place to swim.

It was a large Tauren Druid named Raine who saw the first member of the Alliance raiding party come over the hill. The attacking group swarmed in like a title wave with Paladins and Warriors in the front and a meshed of specialized ranged warriors following behind them. One Dwarven Paladin in particular seemed to be leading the group, his proud warhorse positioned in front of all of the rest. His armor gleamed in the sun, which was up behind the attacking army, an ancient tactic used to blind the enemy forces. He pointed straight towards Tarren Mill and his loud booming voice called out the start of the attack. Deathguards began to charge at the attacking army from Tarren Mill and another battle had begun.

Raine reached for a staff from his back and pointed it at a Human Warrior who was beginning to run towards him. A lancing purple beam fell from the sky and the human was engulfed in moonfire. He continued to charge though, and suddenly Raine was fighting a losing battle. The Warrior's large, two-handed sword was landing blow after blow and fear began to mount in the Tauren's eyes as the human pushed him backwards.

A moment before one especially crushing blow came down, the Warrior abruptly stopped attacking. His sword fell to the ground as his hand clutched themselves at his back. His expression slowly contorted in pain and the skin of his face was turning a light shade of green. Finally he fell over, the life seeping from his body. A Troll with a dagger clutched in each hand stood in front of Raine and spoke to the Tauren in his thick Darkspear accent.

"Hey Mon'! You gotta be careful," he said, and vanished back towards the battle. As he recovered from the fight, Raine's eyes began to skim the battlefield once more, watching the skirmish continue. Two Infernals clashed against each other, as both a Gnome and Undead Warlock battled their demon pets in an epic collision of magical force. As he watched, the two beasts shot off pieces of rock and fire which slammed into the earth, shaking it violently. The ground recoiled in pain from their uncaring defilement.

Closer to the southern side of the city, Raine saw a human begin to chant loudly, his hands clasped together as his graying hair stood up on its end. His voice grew louder, and the Druid pointed his staff, ready for a fight, when suddenly an Orc was next to the Human. Right before the magician was able to release the explosion of arcane power, the Orcish warrior smashed his shield into the Mage's skull. In his moment of triumph, the warrior began to swing wildly at his opponent.

The Tauren's attention was then drawn to the pond. Something seemed to be emerging from it, slowly rising from the water. To his horror, Raine watched two human children come out of the lake. At first they looked around, confused. But once they realized what was happening, their faces contorted into fear, and the young boy began to scream. The girl was soon to follow, and their voices resonated around the area, eclipsing some of the sounds of metal clashing against metal and magical forces being tossed through the air. The sound attracted the attention of a Forsaken Warrior nearby. He smiled a purely sadistic grin and began to charge at the children. Raine cursed at the Undead's cruel act and began to summon a root spell, but before the spell was cast, the Warrior began to slow anyway. As Raine watched, a Dwarven Rifleman was firing methodically, slowing the charge.

Once it was ready, Raine threw his spell, but not at the Undead. Instead, massive green roots rose from the earth and created a protective barrier around the two human children. Their screams of terror increased, but the roots harmlessly went above their heads and shielded them. The warriors attack came down upon the plants and bounced off, doing no harm to the spell or the children. He turned and hissed at Raine, the word "Traitor," barely audible, then fell to the ground, dead from the Rifleman's bullets.

For a split second, the Tauren and Dwarf met eyes. The Rifleman gave the slightest inclination of his head, an acknowledgement of thanks, and then the two opposing warriors broke, the Dwarf going to the children, the Tauren back into the battle once more.

'Damn the Undead,' Gregori thought, as he pulled the vines off of the children. 'Damn them and all their brethren too!' He reached past the branches and grabbed the children, pulling them out. John was crying, his face wet with tears, his eyes frightened. Amy was just angry. She sat pulling thorns off of her arm, ignoring the Dwarf, her expression set in hate.

After lifting them out, Gregori held one under each arm and started running back towards Southshore. As he neared the edge of the battlefield the wooded area became slightly denser. Just as he was about to go past a dilapidated guard tower and into the woods his entire body was gripped in a chilling cold. Another Forsaken stood about twenty feet back, throwing bolts of ice towards him. As Gregori felt the chill spread through his body, he set the children down and motioned for them to run.

Once the children had taken off darting through the woods, the Dwarf turned back towards his new enemy. Instead of lifting his gun into firing position, he instead drew a small whistle from a pouch on his belt and blew into it deeply. A high pitched shriek filled the air for a split second. The Forsaken Mage looked around, confused at what the sound meant. Then a huge paw slammed into the back of the Undead, as a bear had charged up behind him and attacked. The creature clawed continuously at the mage, tearing at his foul robes. In the same moment the Rifleman ran towards the Forsaken, a great axe in his grip. The magician moved his hands in the air and suddenly both Dwarf and bear were encapsulated in ice, unable to move.

The Mage began to run back towards Tarren Mill, but Gregori reached onto his back for his long barreled rifle. Still not capable of moving his legs, he twisted his entire body and carefully drew a bead on his enemy. After concentrating for a moment the Dwarf released a perfectly aimed shot at the back of his target. A barrage of arcane magic and corporeal bullets shot out from the gun.

A few seconds after his foe fell, the ice shattered, and both bear and master were free. The beast came over and stood by his side. Gregori patted it once on the head and pointed it back towards the battle, yelling out a battle cry.

Start Author's Notes

That's it. Thanks for taking the time to read it. The second chapter was almost fully written out when I finished typing this one, so if I get any positive feedback you can expect to see that in a few days. I guess that's all.

/wave

End Author's Notes


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